What Happened During Harry's Break
by Y. M. H. O
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was buzzing with activity—papers were either strewn everywhere or flying around the office looking for their recipients, aurors and employees from other departments alike were hurrying in and out through the cracked glass doors, split almost in two from a past month's accident, which no one had bothered to repair, and for some reason pixies were loose and wreaking havoc in the office.
Harry hid under his table, exhausted from his last operation. It was in the Shrieking Shack—an elderly woman who had a penchant for wearing peach reported that strange sounds were coming from the inside, and when asked about what kind of sounds, mumbled that someone sounded as if in pain, before scurrying off. Harry's heart clenched at the memory of the place, and thus it was no question who will attend to the report.
It was just unfortunate that it turned out to be a middle-aged couple who was... to say it more modestly to the elderly woman "being adventurous in bed with lots of equipment". That seemed to assuage her worries as she colored in embarrassment. Harry neither didn't add that there were muggle equipments charmed with dark spells nor how these were hurled at him, all at the same time. He vaguely recalled a still vibrating, moist dildo hitting the side of his face. He shuddered, and curled up on himself more.
Dignity be damned if someone saw him cramped in the small space, his wide shoulders barely making it. He was exhausted. He closed his eyes, hoping for a quick nap when—
"Harry! What in Merlin's name are you doing there?" Half-dead and with his eyes still unopened, he recognized the voice. He didn't budge.
"If you care about me Hermione, please go." He muttered and pushed his body further in. 'Under the table... under the stairs in the cupboard' he vaguely thought and chuckled before losing energy. Above and in front of him, Hermione glowered.
"Oh for god's sake... Immobulus!" Immediately, the pixies froze, as all the papers floating on air. Some people glanced, muttered 'thank Merlin' before going on their separate ways. Hermione conjured a cage and levitated the pixies inside with precision. Harry's eyes remained unopened, but his bestfriend knew better.
"Pretend you're asleep and I'm telling Ron about... Juliet." Harry's eyes snapped open before one can say 'fuck', and he stared at Hermione pleadingly. Her smile was cruel. He didn't doubt that she wouldn't hesitate telling Ron about Juliet, one of the Weasley garden gnomes whom Harry convinced that Ron had a crush on, but was just too shy to confess to. Ron didn't come home to the Burrow for two months, traumatised about being chased.
"'Mione, please, I'm tired. Have mercy..." He pleaded and proceeded to shut his eyes again when his arm was pulled roughly. He groaned.
"I know, Harry. Anyone who's seen you for the past three weeks can see it. It's time for a break—you've been in more than 40 missions the past month! You can't keep doing this to yourself! You need—"
"Shhh... I'm having a break now 'Mione." Harry mumbled and pulled back his arm, which was pulled by Hermione again. He didn't appreciate his arm as the rope in their tug of war.
"This is not a real break! Go on a vacation, or stay at home to rest!" Her voice was shrill and Harry gave up on tugging back his arm. Hermione held it in a vice grip.
"I'm OK—"
"That's it, I'm taking you out of here." She resolutely stated and levitated Harry out of his hiding place and sat him on a lopsided chair. He glared at her weakly, as she fumbled at her robes and produced a flask filled with red potion. He eyed it suspiciously.
"Don't be silly, it's only Energy Replenishing Potion. You should know." She scolded and thrust it at Harry's mouth. He didn't have time to protest as the liquid burned through his throat, and warmth quickly spread to his limbs. She smiled smugly.
"Just enough to get you by until we relax your muscles. There, good boy." Harry was honestly getting afraid of his best friend, who was getting more forceful by the second. Fighting for magical minorities rights' were doing her scary. He stood up cautiously and maintained distance. Hermione merely smiled.
"I'm taking the Chosen One for a walk!" She called out to the almost empty office. What? Harry glanced at his wrists. They were bound by shimmering golden threads... which were connected and held by Hermione. He gaped at her as they manoeuvred out of the department.
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"You walked me here. Walk me back." Harry protested when they arrived at the edge of Hogsmeade, where people rarely pass by. Few shops lined the road, and apart from two wizards, they were alone.
"No. We've come this far, you know." His bestfriend replied as she tugged on the threads binding his wrists. Harry tried to apparate, to no avail.
"A spa? Really Hermione? It's creepy there, people touch you!" He whispered, horrified, as they pushed past the glass doors of the store Felicis and the chimes sounded.
"That's the point, Harry. You're going for a massage." She retorted when they reached the reception area. Different fumes assaulted Harry's nose, and everything seemed to be in the shades of pink, cream, and brown that his eyes suddenly hurt.
"Eyes here." Hermione growled, and the young witch receptionist who was gaping at Harry, jumped at her voice. He couldn't blame her. She was scary.
"One whole body massage for the young man here. Thai, an hour and a half." She ordered, as the young witch scribbled something on a piece of paper. Harry rounded on her.
"You're not coming with me?" He demanded, and immediately shrank at her cool gaze.
"Of course not. I have a meeting with the goblins in half an hour. And miss—please give him the whole cinnamon package." She added with a glance to the receptionist before placing a few galleons on the counter. She turned to Harry, who stepped away, and sighed.
"Behave, Harry. It's your break for Merlin's sake... There. And remember Ron and Juliet!" Hermione patted his head, dissolved the threads, and was out the glass doors before he can get a word out.
"This way, Mr. Potter." The receptionist witch breathed and motioned for Harry down a corridor illuminated faintly by candles at the side. Soft instrumental music played in the background, and he faintly heard the trickle of a fountain. She led him to the end of the corridor, and inside the darkened room.
"Please undress, the shower is over there if you would," she pointed at the corner where a shower was installed and separated from the room only by transparent glass, "your masseur will be here shortly." She leaned forward, and he stepped further into the room to avoid contact.
"Masseur? Ah so a man will be the one to massage me?" He replied, relieved. He had bad experiences with female ones who keep pressing themselves on him.
"Oh. Perhaps you want me to..." She trailed in what must be a seductive tone but which Harry heard more as a croak. She looked like a frog with breasts. Urgh. More bad memories.
"No, no, no, that's fine! I'll just wait here for the masseur." He slammed the frosted glass door before her face and proceeded to take off his clothes. This will be quick, Hermione's wrath isn't worth it, he chanted to himself as he rubbed the cinnamon-scented body wash all over his body and rinsed just as quickly. Hermione and Ron's wrath when he finds out.
He was lying on the strangely comfortable makeshift bed when the door creaked open. He raised his head to acknowledge the masseur when—
"Potter." He stopped short at the sight of Draco Malfoy, dressed in dark blue scrubs which clung to every curve of his slender frame. His pink lips were parted in similar shock, before he collected himself, and sneered. Harry glared at him, albeit weakly. It had been years since he last saw Malfoy, the last time being at the trial of his family. Harry didn't anticipate the delici—pleasant change he underwent the past two years. Malfoy looked more mature with his high cheekbones and steady gaze, and his skin looked smooth and soft to—Harry stopped himself. It was unfair. Malfoy looked gorgeous.
"What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?" He demanded and almost sat up, before quickly realizing that he was naked except for the thin towel covering his behind. Malfoy stepped forward and regarded him coolly.
"I'm your masseur. If that's not obvious enough." He replied, and began setting the various oils on the side table. Harry tensed at his close proximity.
"I know. I meant, how come you're the one—"
"I work here, Potter. I own this branch." He muttered coolly, hesitating on touching Harry's tanned back, the hard muscles begging to be touched and unknotted.
"You really own—"
"Is this gonna be a problem, Potter? I'm the only masseur in the store at the moment and if you're uncomfortable a refund is available." Malfoy stepped back and forced himself to stare at Harry's face as his client turned his head sideways and his bangs, still wet, clung to the sides of his face. He stared at Malfoy with those brilliantly green eyes that seemed to see through him in the dim light, and Malfoy froze. For the first time, he realized that this was indeed happening and not the delirious dream of his—Harry Potter was on a bed, well technically his bed, covered only by a thin towel and ready for him to touch. All his, a voice whispered in his head which he quickly silenced.
Nope, he was not ready for this.
"I'll talk to the receptionist about the refund—"
He stepped further away, and towards the door when Harry's arm shot out and grabbed his wrist. Malfoy gasped, shocked at the warmth of his palm. Harry immediately let go.
"That won't be necessary. It's alright... It's just 90 minutes." He muttered and faced sideways, away from him, on the bed. Malfoy took a deep breath, careful to not let Harry hear, before returning to his former position beside Harry's form. He thought he heard him mumble something about witch, wrath, and gnome but dismissed it. Malfoy was gonna do his job, he's going to do it well, and quickly. Time was of the essence—he needed to return to the office, his loose pants were already straining against his length. Stupid Potter, he remarked quietly to himself. Stupid, sexy Potter...
"What did you say?" Damn. Malfoy forgot the man was an auror. He rubbed oil between his palms, and with a breath, started at Harry's shoulders.
"Nothing. Just about the oil." He replied smoothly, and revelled at the back muscles of Harry, taut and tense. He pressed with his thumb and was rewarded with a gasp as the muscles relaxed.
"What about the oil? It smells nice." Malfoy vaguely noticed how Harry's voice dropped, and sat down on the bed to lean further but still careful not to get too close.
"Of course. I concocted the formula—it must smell nice and feel nice, if the word nice cuts it." He retorted and proceeded down Harry's lower back. He traced a faint scar and this time, heard Harry growl. He breathed in deeply to steady the erratic beating of his heart.
"What limited uses, I know someone who concocted 11 uses of oil, if you must know Jane Fetchwood who—." Harry replied with a chuckle, but couldn't bring himself to relax, not when soft hands were pressing circles at his back. Malfoy glared at the back of his head.
"Well do forgive me Auror Potter for this oil with... four limited uses..." He pressed his knuckles angrily on Harry's sides and the latter yelped.
"Nothing wrong with four uses! So first, it smells nice. Then it feels nice. Third...it's flammable! Fourth... umm... ah!" Harry gasped as the towel covering his buttocks was lifted and replaced by the warm hands.
"Fourth, it's an exceptional... lubricant." Malfoy breathed as he massaged Harry's firm buttocks, and his fingers dangerously nearing the cleft. He could hear Harry's ragged breathing beneath him, and feeling brave, dipped a finger to trace the outline of the hole once. Harry arched.
"Ahhh... I find that quite hard to believe, Ma-Malfoy." He muttered, before suddenly flipping on his back and facing his masseur. Malfoy stilled as he met the other's intense gaze, before going down and staring at the exposed very erect, and very hard manhood. He gulped, and felt his knees lose strength.
"Testing it on smooth, wide stretch of skin isn't a trustworthy way of ensuring its effectivity, if you will believe me, Malfoy." With a smirk, Harry raised himself on his elbows and roughly grabbed Malfoy's wrist before pressing it inside the loose pants, such that Malfoy was palming himself.
"What... what are—" Malfoy gasped as Harry started to press his hand against his front in a circular motion.
"Have you even tested it on yourself? The maker?" Harry continued, before letting go of Malfoy's hand. Embarrassingly, Malfoy couldn't stop touching himself, and glared weakly at the other man.
"No, I don't need to—"He started when in a quick, fluid motion, found himself on his back with Harry hovering above him. He opened his mouth but nothing but a squeak came out. He pursed his lips as Harry chuckled above him, trapping him between his body and the bed.
"Of course you do. Or maybe it's not that exceptional as you say..." He trailed off as he leaned forward and buried his face in Malfoy's neck, and Malfoy—Malfoy found it hard to think straight as he felt Harry's hot breath against his jaw.
"Wizard's honor, I-I know it is..." He gasped and totally lost the ability to think coherently when he felt Harry lick along his collar bone. Vaguely he was embarrassed as to how he easily came undone from Harry's ministrations, but then again, this was Harry, and with him his mask always came undone.
"Hmm, wizard's honor. That's a heavy oath to swear, isn't it?" Suddenly, Malfoy became aware of their states of undress when Harry rocked his hips forward, brushing their middles, and he moaned.
"What do you think, Malfoy, man enough to test it on yourself?" Harry whispered as he snaked his arm underneath Malfoy's top. Malfoy moaned once more when his left nipple was pinched, then the other, sending heat to his groin. He closed his eyes.
"Y-yes. Test it...o-on me." He gasped, as Harry divulged him of his shirt and proceeded to kiss all exposed skin. In a swift movement, his trousers were on the floor and Harry's touches stopped. Missing the heat, Malfoy opened his eyes, only to see Harry smirking.
"Quite bold going commando, Malfoy. Perhaps you were ready for me?" Malfoy colored in embarrassment—he dressed quickly when he was summoned by the receptionist regarding a male client, and didn't care at that time. He didn't know whether he should be glad or mortified, or both.
Harry tilted his head with yet another smirk (where did he learn how to do that the other mused) and grabbed Malfoy's cock. Not yet recovered from his embarrassment, Malfoy moaned. Harry leaned forward and pressed their lips together, taking advantage of Malfoy's open mouth to kiss him senseless before pulling back.
"Harry... Please..." Malfoy pleaded and spread his legs open on either side of Harry, exposing everything of his body.
"What?" Harry replied as he started to run his hand up and down Malfoy's length, slowly at first, before increasing his pace. Malfoy clutched the thin sheets of the bed and panted.
"Wizard's honor... my product—ahh!" He screamed as he felt himself come close. Just then, Harry's movements stopped and he let go of Malfoy's length to grab the bottle from the stand, and haul Malfoy's legs on his shoulders to gain more access to his hole. Harry poured a considerable amount on his palms and rubbed, inhaling the scent.
"I suppose Trial 1..." Harry whispered, and without warning, pushed two fingers inside Malfoy. "...has commenced." The blond cried out at the intrusion, but his cries dissolved into moans as Harry moved his fingers in and out, pushing further and further in with every intrusion, stretching Malfoy. By the time he added a third finger, Malfoy was writhing on the sheets, both in pain and pleasure as Harry fucked him with his fingers.
"Quite effective so far..." Harry hummed as Malfoy bucked against his fingers.
"Harry, Harry please... your cock I need to—ahh fuck!" He cried out once more as Harry added a fourth finger.
"Nearly exceptional... But I-I think the flexibility of the subject is—is a factor too." Harry panted, his erection aching and neglected. He kneeled and let it slide against the inside of Malfoy's thighs, and delighted in the drawn-out moan it elicited.
"P-potter... Inside... Now." Malfoy commanded with his last remaining willpower, and bucked against Harry's groin. The brunet hissed, swiftly aligned his length at Malfoy's entrance, and slammed inside him. Malfoy howled his name.
It was glorious. Malfoy was slick and ready for him, yet he was so tight that Harry's pull was slow as Malfoy's muscles suctioned him. He pulled out with a grunt.
"How can you be so tight after—" He slammed into him again, and rolled his hips, marvelling at how Malfoy seemed unrelenting on letting him go. The blond clutched at his arms, writhing and moaning and demanding—
"M-move! Or I'll hex you..." He warned, and Harry pulled out again, and pushed inside, the movements becoming easier as he repeated, the meeting of their middles producing a squelching sound which echoed off the walls along with their chants of each other's names, 'oh god oh god', 'that's it', 'faster', 'harder', and 'so good'. Wizards' honors be damned.
Harry slammed into him ruthlessly, pushing deeper and deeper. Then a slight change of angle-and Malfoy screamed. He lifted his hips to meet Harry's thrust again and again until he felt the pent-up pressure he was denied releasing before overcome him. With a long moan, he came, spraying his stomach and Harry's chest white. The brunet leaned forward to capture his lips, but with Malfoy's walls tightening around his cock, he couldn't stop himself. Harry growled and released inside him, biting Malfoy's shoulder.
Panting and exhausted, they stayed in that position, until Malfoy coughed embarrassedly to signal the other wizard to pull outside of him. Harry reluctantly heaved backward to leave some space between them, and was quite surprised and worried to see that the blonde refused to meet his gaze. He reached out and touched Malfoy's chin gently, and smiled when he relented. Then suddenly, Harry was assaulted with guilt and he dropped his hand.
"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done—"
"No, I started it and I know that you're not gay or anything it's just a one-time thing of course I'm unprofessional for sleeping with a client I don't—" Malfoy started rambling when Harry put a finger against his lips.
"Until now, I thought I was straight. Maybe I'm gay... but only for you?" He stated hopefully, removing his finger from Malfoy's lips. The blond's eyes widened a fraction, his cheeks coloring.
"But it's still unprof—"
"Our track records aren't exactly nice, you must remember. You know I love breaking rules..." Harry continued, and proceeded to stand and snatch Malfoy's clothes from the floor. Malfoy's heart thudded against his chest, and he reached for his clothes, his hands trembling. He didn't dare meet Harry's eyes, afraid of him seeing through his embarrassment, sadness, and anger. It was simply a prolonged childhood infatuation for Merlin's sake—
"So when is Trial 2?"
Draco froze.
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The DMLE office was still a mess when Hermione pushed past the cracked doors which she had just repaired—papers still lay strewn about while some were zooming in and out, employees chatted and argued, their voices escalating into shouts, but thankfully there were no loose pixies. She let out a sigh as she made her way to Harry's table.
"Is it just me or you look happy, Harry." She remarked, staring at the wizard who was busy signing off a document. He offered her a grin and resumed writing.
"It's just you." He replied, chuckling at her groan.
"What is it? Spill it Potter or I'll—" She was cut off when Harry chucked a paper at her mouth. She glared half-heartedly at her grinning best friend, when an idea suddenly struck her.
"You like someone!" She accused, leaning against his table. He chuckled once more and glanced at his wrist watch.
"Maybe?"
"Who is it? Is it the person you meet during your breaks?"
Harry picked up his cloak and stood up, briefly hugging Hermione who hugged back suspiciously.
"I'll tell you soon... After I tell him... Maybe." He replied and jogged towards the cracked doors, leaving a shocked and curious Hermione behind. Harry turned and winked at her before pushing past the glass.
"Thanks 'Mione! Gods, I love breaks!"
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It's my first slash fic, and Harry Potter fic my gad what have I dooone. My first Harry Potter fic and it's thisssss [rant dissolves into gibberish Parseltongue].
Nevertheless, thank you for reading this far, and sorry if I did not live up to your expectations. I had fun. Now excuse me while I delete this from the computer and wash my eyes and pray.
Happy, blessed, glorious New Year Potterheads! Remember you cannot go back to the Wizarding World if you never left! We're all stuck here! We're all mad here!
And damn we make it worthwhile!